


Blindsided

by shadowolfhunter



Series: The Heart Wants [3]
Category: Justified
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Gutterson volunteers to take care of Raylan Givens when Raylan is injured in the line of duty. Tim's feelings may run deeper than mere friendship, but he has no idea how Raylan feels about Tim. Besides, Raylan is the Captain Kirk of East Kentucky, isn't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Eyes Have It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonshine_Givens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Givens/gifts).



“Marshal, without your colleague’s quick thinking, you might have lost your sight.” The doctor paused for effect. “Permanently.”

Raylan sighed heavily, and put his hand up towards his face. His cheeks and forehead itched from whatever the hell Dean Bailey had flung in his face. 

His fingers were intercepted by someone’s hand. “Leave the bandages alone, Raylan.” Tim sounded irritable.

“Can I get out of here?” Raylan growled.

“If there’s someone who can help you for the next couple of days, just until the bandages come off. I don’t see why not.”

“He can come home with me.” _Tim, taking care of him again_. Raylan didn’t know whether to be relieved, grumpy or grateful. He settled for a non-committal grunt.

He just hoped that there wasn’t some kind of attorney’s office shit storm waiting to fall on his head, because this wasn’t his fault, just sheer, dumb bad luck.

They had slammed in front door, moved through the shabby house, checking carefully, it was just Raylan’s really bad luck that he’d opened the kitchen door.  
Their fugitive had thrown the contents of some kind of plastic bottle in Raylan’s face.

Whatever the hell it was, it stung like crazy, Raylan had cried out in pain. Then Tim had grabbed him, dragged him across the kitchen shoving him into a chair. The next thing Raylan knew his hands were being held firmly away from his face, he was told to tilt his head back and then Tim was pouring water into his eyes.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Raylan was whisked away by ambulance, had his eyes thoroughly irrigated by the doctor who diagnosed inflamed corneas, and that Raylan needed to rest his eyes. Since everything was blurry, and his eyes felt like barbecue forks had been stuck in them, he was happy to exceed to that directive.

Especially as rest to Raylan said night off with a bottle of Jack for company. Things brightened up a little. Until the doctor put pads on both Raylan’s eyes and bandaged them in place. Forty-eight hours complete rest.

For Raylan, who wasn’t keen on being blind for the five minutes since the doctor had bandaged his eyes, forty-eight hours seemed like his worst nightmare. Especially as he and Winona were taking another break from each other.

Tim would have had to be a completely insensitive idiot not to notice Raylan’s fingers were trembling. He tightened his grip on Raylan’s hand, but gently, offering comfort.

It was a little difficult to read Raylan’s expression, but with his eyes bandaged, Tim thought his friend had never seemed more vulnerable. Raylan just looked scared. Tim gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.

After paying attention to the doctor’s directions, and accepting some pain meds, and some cream for the red rash on Raylan’s forehead and cheeks, Tim pondered the question of how he was going to get his prickly and independent colleague to accept help as far as the car.

Deciding to opt for the just do it approach, Tim tugged on his colleague’s hand and said “Come on, let’s get out of here.” In a slightly breathless voice which was supposed to convey breezy confidence but sounded ever so slightly desperate to Tim’s ears.

To his relief Raylan seemed so pleased to just escape from the hospital, he slid down from the gurney and followed Tim.

It felt a little weird to be holding Raylan’s hand, but a good weird. If Tim spent any real time thinking about this response it would be because as much as he admired Raylan Givens for being the tough, dedicated, straight-shooting lawman that he is, he loved him for just being a friend. And Raylan was entertaining, okay, in a messy, sometimes violent and chaotic way, but he’s still Raylan, there was absolutely nothing fake about him. In a world of phonies, and idiots trying to get ahead, Tim appreciated that a lot.

In some ways Tim was also relieved that Art stayed only long enough to hear that Raylan was going to be just fine after a couple of days, and to give Raylan’s beloved hat to Tim. He knew that Art would pass the news about Raylan’s eye injury to people who wanted to know, that Rachel would probably come round to see them after shift, and other than that they would be left alone. Tim had put in for a couple of days just to help Raylan and Art had signed off on it without a murmur.

He had the distinct feeling that Raylan would be really uncomfortable if half the office came calling.

Arriving at his place, Tim was strangely relieved that Raylan had at least spent enough time there, on team nights and baseball games and cook outs to have some idea of the layout.

“We’re home.” He said.

“Yeah.” Whispered Raylan softly. Tim had time to wonder as he helped his friend up the steps and in through the front door what exactly Raylan had meant by that.


	2. Mostly Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim tries to keep his sudden rush of feelings towards Raylan hidden, whilst taking care of a helpless Raylan.

Guiding Raylan through the front door, Tim automatically thought about potential hazards that a temporarily blinded man might have to negotiate. It was definitely something of a relief that his apartment was on the first floor, no dangerous stairs for Raylan to fall down.

Steering Raylan towards the couch, Tim pondered basic needs as his stomach growled forcefully for the third time. “Hungry?”

For the first time since the morning’s painful encounter, Raylan actually grinned. “Yeah, y’could say that.”

“Burgers?” Tim figured that something Raylan could easily hold and eat would be better than trying to play with a knife and fork. It occurred to him that he was fussing like an anxious helicopter mother, and the absurdity of it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. If Raylan was in any condition to call Tim on it, he would have done by now.

He looked down at his injured friend. Raylan’s jaw was clenched again. Tim really wanted to put his arms around Raylan and promise him that everything would be just fine.

 _Whoa… where the hell did that come from?_ Tim shook himself.

“Ray-Ray?” _and that?_ He never called Raylan by the pet name he’d heard some of the older marshals use, the guys who had known Raylan a long time, or worked with him before Kentucky.

Raylan didn’t seem to notice. Given his current condition, Tim could scarcely blame him for that, and it was a relief anyway. Raylan was as straight as a die. In fact, women were Raylan’s downfall. He attracted them like moths to a flame, and then when everything went south, he fell into bed or love or both with them. And then all hell broke loose. Leading directly to all sorts of bad consequences for Raylan.

“I’ll fix burgers.” Tim straightened up and moved towards the small kitchen “No beer for you, unfortunately. Doctor’s orders.”

Raylan felt like barking out something very uncomplimentary about doctors and their orders, but it was hardly Tim’s fault, and Raylan was having a very weird moment or two.

He could hear Tim’s footfalls across the floor, hear the creak of a fridge door and a soft thump as it shut, something that sounded as though it might be a freezer, a pan landing on the stove?

That was weird. Unsettling. He’d heard of people being deprived of one sense whose other senses somehow compensated for the loss, but he had only been deprived of his sight for about half an hour… or maybe more. Without sight, time was irrelevant.

He put his hands up to his face then, fingering the edge of the bandages that covered his eyes. It really didn’t matter how temporary the doctor said that this situation was, Raylan was terrified that it might not be so temporary when the bandages came off.

The skin on his cheeks beneath the edge of the bandages was sore. Raylan hissed a little as his fingers hit the patches of reddened skin. _Damn_.

“Juice or water.”

Raylan had been so caught up in his fears he had failed to detect Tim’s boot treads across the floor. He jumped. Tim’s hand gently grasped his shoulder. “Hey, Ray-Ray… it’s cool. Don’t worry.”

 _Shit_. There he was again, if Raylan missed it the first time, he sure as hell wasn’t gonna miss it the second time. _It’s cool?_ Tim’s mouth and his brain seemed to have dropped a synapse or two along the way. Because Tim did not do this shit with colleagues, especially handsome, sexy cowboy marshals who marched to the beat of their own very unique drum.

Tim was no fool. He liked women, he occasionally dated women too, and slept with them and engaged in all the perfectly normal activities of a heterosexual male. But he was well aware that he was also attracted to men. Admittedly, no man had ever turned Tim’s brains upside-down and inside-out quite like Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens.

And Raylan Givens had turned Timothy Gutterson’s world upside-down and inside-out from the very first time they shook hands. _Damn_.

Tim pulled himself together with an effort, and turned his attention to Raylan’s needs. His blinded friend was touching the scarlet patches of skin beneath the bandages.

“You okay?” Tim didn’t care if Raylan picked up on the slight hitch in his voice, because it came to Tim in that very moment that Raylan would be needing his help in some pretty intimate ways. And there was every chance that Raylan would easily detect the strength of Tim’s sudden, extreme, excessive attraction to Raylan.

 _Damn_.

Raylan shook his head. “Hurts.” He said. A wealth of expression in that one word, and Tim kicked himself mentally. Raylan needed his help, this was about Raylan’s needs not Tim, so he should just pull himself together.

“Okay, Raylan, I got something from the doc to deal with that, I just gotta turn those burgers, and I’ll fix it for you.”

Raylan nodded. “Water or juice, whatever’s easiest. That’s fine.” And if his voice sounded a little strained and choked that was just between Tim and him. _Right_.

Tim nodded, forgetting for a moment that Raylan couldn’t see him. Flushing pink when he ‘remembered’, “I’ll bring you some juice.” A little gruffly, to cover his sudden embarrassing hesitation and was rewarded with a ghost of Raylan’s normal, charming, smile.


	3. Visits and Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim cooks dinner, Art and Rachel visit, and Boyd.

Tim had just served the burgers and chips when there was a knock at the door. He carefully placed a burger in Raylan’s hands and went to answer it.

Art and Rachel. Tim could see the anxiety on both their faces, as he let them in.

It was weird eating without being able to see what he was eating, but in the general way of weird and unsettling experiences that he had endured since he made the mistake of opening a kitchen door, Raylan found this was a lot less weird than he had thought it would be.

The aroma wafting up from the burger made it easy. Raylan cautiously took a bite. Damn. It was really good. Tim had managed to cook the burger exactly the way Raylan liked it, medium rare, complete with Raylan’s favourite sauce and real cheese. Not that plasticky stuff masquerading as cheese. Raylan was almost humming with contentment.

Art would have been a liar if he said that he wasn’t worried about Raylan. Despite the doctor’s assurances that Raylan only needed some rest and that his sight would be perfectly fine, Art preferred to check things out for himself.

The sight of Raylan, sitting on the sofa, happily stuffing a burger down went a long way to reassuring him. 

Rachel sat down next to Raylan and put a gentle hand on his thigh. “How are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Y’know…” she began, really unsettled by what had happened to him.

Raylan put out a hand, missed hers by miles, but Rachel reached out and gathered his in both of hers. “Rachel, not your fault, there was nothing you could have done. It just happened.”

She squeezed his hand between both of hers, he could feel her fingers tremble, and his thumb caressed the back of her hand in a soothing motion. Even without the intense dark eyes staring into hers, Rachel could feel the strength of Raylan’s personality.

“Idiot.” She whispered fondly as she dropped a light kiss on his hand and let go.

“Y’wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’…” Raylan’s ability to drop straight into Harlan redneck never ceased to amaze her. The aw shucks cowboy charm ratcheted up a notch or three. Even temporarily blinded Raylan was his charming, flirtatious self, and she swotted his thigh with the palm of her hand as she went to move away from the sofa.

“What?”

“You know.” She smiled fondly at him. It wasn’t much of a smile that he gave her, but in the circumstances she was taking whatever she could get.

Tim grilled more burgers, and Art and Rachel stayed, and kept Raylan company. It was when Tim gently guided the glass of water into Raylan’s hand that Rachel realized that Tim’s feelings might just run a little deeper than friendship. Raylan’s expression was hard to read at the best of times, but she had the distinct impression that the gentle touch of Tim’s hand on the back of Raylan’s that lingered a second too long for just friendship was not unwelcome.

She hoped that Tim wasn’t getting in too deep. Raylan had issues, not the least his unresolved situation with Winona.

It was getting late, and Raylan needed rest, or that was what Art said as he got to his feet. Truth was, he was getting too damn old to pull lates and still be fresh for the day shift. Besides Raylan was in good hands, and Art would have been lying to himself if he couldn’t wish that his deputies might find a little peace. God knew they both deserved it.

The atmosphere seemed a little flat and awkward when Tim showed Art and Rachel out. Raylan’s tension headache ratcheted up another notch.

Tim cleared away the dirty plates and glasses. He could see that Raylan was tiring, and that his headache had to be worse. He could see that his friend was rubbing the side of his head, and there was obvious tension in his neck and shoulders. Tim swore under his breath, and was about to reach out to gently help the injured deputy to his feet, when someone knocked at the door.

They both jumped. Tim considered not answering it, but whoever it was decided to knock again.

“Deputy Gutterson?”

Damn. Tim marched over to the door, irritated, Boyd Crowder had some hide coming to Tim’s home. He yanked the front door open, “Yes.” It was somewhere between a snap and a growl, and just for a second a gleam of something wicked danced in Boyd Crowder’s intense hazel eyes.

“I was wondering if I might see Raylan for a moment. I heard today he was injured in the line of duty.”

Tim was not about to be fooled by Boyd’s concerned tone, and the country boy accent. Boyd meant nothing but trouble for Raylan, and letting Boyd anywhere near a blinded and helpless Raylan seemed like a really bad idea.

“Boyd?” Raylan sat up a little, and just like that it was resolved for Tim. Reluctantly he stepped aside and let Boyd in. But Crowder was not having it all his own way, some friend and protector Tim would have been if he hadn’t made it quite clear to the man. He laid a hand firmly on Boyd’s arm, “he’s exhausted and in pain, so if you’ve come to make more trouble for him I’ll thank you to remember where you are.” Boyd flicked a glance at Tim’s face, recognized the hard look in Tim’s eyes and the clearly implied threat in his tone.

For a second it occurred to Boyd to mess with the deputy, but there was something deep in the hard-eyed, cold expression in Tim Gutterson’s eyes suggesting  
that might be a very unwise move on Boyd’s part.

His motives for coming were not exactly clear to Boyd. They worked the mine together, that made them close in ways that transcended normal social mores. They were now in opposition. Boyd would have liked to have killed Raylan a time or two, and he had no doubt that Raylan felt the same way too, but this. This was something different. Like the Germans and British at Christmas 1914, Boyd was happy to have a ceasefire.

“Raylan.” Boyd sat on the table in front of his old friend and took Raylan’s hands in his. “I’m sorry to see you in this state.”

“Yeah.” A sigh, an admission of something, Boyd really doesn’t care what. Right at that very moment in time they’re not fighting, Raylan’s accepting Boyd’s touch, and while Raylan’s marshal buddy was positively vibrating with the need to sweep Boyd away from the man he clearly loves, Boyd felt a curious sense of peace, and some distress for Raylan’s pain.

Boyd gently squeezed Raylan’s hands, put a gentle hand up to Raylan’s cheek and kissed him on the forehead. Got to his feet and headed for the door. “Take care.” He said as he let himself out, surprised to find that he really did mean it.


	4. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan and Tim have an unsettled night.

Tim wasn’t sure what woke him, but the pained moan and whimper coming from the bedroom told him that Raylan was in trouble. Shit. He slipped off the sofa.

After Boyd’s late visit, Raylan seemed even more subdued and tired than he had at the hospital. Somehow they managed to get through the inevitable awkwardness of getting Raylan to bed as he was limited as to what he could do for himself, and when it was done Tim had heaved a silent sigh of relief that he’d brushed though that without making a fool of himself, and taken himself off to the sofa before he could.

It was Raylan. That was Tim’s only logical explanation. He just got you like that. He charmed you. And then he pulled something so dumb it made your head spin, but you loved him for all of it anyway, because as dumb and charming and mixed-up crazy as Raylan could make things, he was never boring. He made you want to shoot him and hug him at the same time.

Raylan had been shot before, and beaten up a few times, and he’d gravitated to Tim a few of those times, but this was different. Raylan wasn’t just hurting, he was terrified. Tim didn’t know how to deal with that without giving Raylan more than a clue about Tim’s feelings towards him.

Tim paused in the doorway. Raylan was sprawled on his back, some time he had managed to kick the covers off, and he was shifting and twitching in his sleep like a dreaming dog. It was the shivering that unnerved Tim. He moved over to the bed, reached down and picked up the covers, just intending to cover Raylan over, when Raylan gave a pained yelp and sat up suddenly. His hands flew up to his face.

It must have been instinct, Tim dropped the covers, sat on the edge of the bed and grasped Raylan’s wrists firmly, pulling his hands down and away from his face. “Sssssshhhh” he soothed his partner, “I’ve got you, it’s alright.” For a second Raylan stiffened, and then to Tim’s surprise he burrowed against him.

Raylan’s arms were around his waist, Raylan’s face was buried in the junction between Tim’s shoulder and neck, and he was hanging onto Tim for dear life.

It was after midnight. They were alone. Raylan was hurting and needed Tim. Whatever happened in Tim’s apartment, stayed in Tim’s apartment. They were professionals, they could deal.

Tim eased his injured partner back down on the bed. He moved away to grab the covers again.

“Stay.” Whispered Raylan. “It won’t get weird, I promise. I just…” he shivered again and that convinced Tim he could maintain some sort of objective distance.

Then Raylan moved back a little, and Tim slipped in beside him, and he pulled the covers up as Raylan burrowed in against him again.

Seeking warmth and a bit of comfort. That’s all. That was what Tim told himself.  
It was easy, lying there, Raylan in his arms, Raylan’s head resting against Tim’s shoulder, his arms tight around Tim’s waist, their legs all tangled up together. Raylan was still shivering, his skin a little chilled, Tim gently raised his hand and rubbed the back of Raylan’s neck with his knuckles, slow, soothing motions. Gradually Raylan’s fierce grip began to ease, and the tension slid from his shoulders and back.

He felt Raylan relax into him in that curiously boneless way that Raylan had. His forehead resting against Tim’s lower jaw, nose buried in his neck, the soft touch of Raylan’s lips on Tim’s skin.

The last coherent thought on Tim’s mind was how good it felt to hold Raylan, because Raylan fit.

xxxxxxxx

Being blind was miserable, however temporary it was supposed to be. Raylan itched to take the bandages off, but 48 hours was 48 hours, and Tim persuaded him to leave the dressings alone. Well forcibly dragged Raylan’s hands away from his face anytime Tim thought Raylan was going to touch the bandages.

He knew he was behaving like a grumpy child, but the whole situation had him very badly rattled. Tim was endlessly patient and understanding. Which made _that_ situation worse. He knew how he felt about Tim, but he’d seen Tim in action a few times, the girls tended to gravitate to him. Tim was never going to look at his colleague, his _male_ colleague that way.

Truth, Raylan liked women too. But nothing ever seemed to go right with the women who came into Raylan’s life. His ex-wife was a prime case in point. They were married for six years, he moved to Glynco, taking up a job that took him out of the field because that’s what Winona wanted, and she jumped the realtor and left Raylan for Gary Hawkins.

What Raylan found impossible to understand is that he was doing exactly what she wanted, and she left him anyway.

Then there was Miami, and the chaos there, being forced back to Kentucky, and somehow liking it, despite several attempts to leave. And then there was Tim. Sniper, ex-Army Ranger, in some ways as screwed up as Raylan himself. And Raylan found himself in something with Tim Gutterson. He just didn’t know what that something might be.

It was silent, that something, until Raylan walked through a kitchen door first, and straight into a world of hurt. Until Tim took him in like an abandoned cat, and with his eyes bandaged that meant that Raylan could pretend a little, and not have Tim see the truth.

He meant it when he told Tim it didn’t have to get weird. He needed Tim, and he really didn’t want to think about how much, just get through the night, and a day and another night, and they could go back to exactly how things were comfortable before an idiot had tried to blind him with household chemicals.

Raylan fell into Tim’s arms with a need that ached from his very core.

Tim just held him. He put his head down on Tim’s shoulder and burrowed in to the side of Tim’s neck.

With Raylan pressed up close, Tim could feel how wired he was, it was just comfort, he turned his head a little and pressed his lips to Raylan’s forehead.


	5. Taking A Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan and Tim have some unresolved issues. Art aids them in resolving those issues.

Being on a desk for a week had done very little to improve Raylan’s temper or calm his nerves. When he had sworn to Tim that it wouldn’t get weird, he had known on some level that the general interpretation of weird included kissing. It was a moment and Raylan had copped to that moment without even a passing thought about how he was going to handle the moment when he could see again.

So of course he hadn’t. Handled it. He’d done everything but handle it. Now he had messed up his relationship with Tim and everything was shot to shit again.

He eased back in his chair, slumped down on his spine and hauled the file into his lap, carefully toed the desk so that his chair swiveled just enough. He was reading the file, except he wasn’t he was studying Tim’s face from beneath his lashes like the coward he had suddenly become. He had kissed Tim, and Tim had responded, and he had loved every second of it until someone came knocking on the door. They’d parted. Tim had gone to see who it was. It was Boyd Crowder and dammit if Tim hadn’t gone back to being just a good friend after Boyd left.

Raylan was an absolute master at screwing up his relationships, but this one was hurting more than any of the others. It wasn’t as though Tim was treating him any different. And that was the problem. Raylan wanted Tim to be treating him differently. He wanted what he could sense in that kiss. 

Being Raylan, he was turning himself inside out with the stress and still couldn’t ask for it. Then it was too late, the doctor took the bandages off, flushed his eyes again and pronounced him good to go. And Raylan found himself tongue-tied and hopeless. Whenever talking was involved, things had a habit of going south even faster. He had to get out of the office to think things through so when the call came in it was almost a relief. His hat was on and he was shrugging into his jacket before he was halfway across the floor. He thought he heard Art call his name, but fate was on his side and the lift doors were closing when he dived through, slapping at the down button.

xxxxxxxx

Tim Gutterson was angry. Possibly angrier than he had ever been in his life before. Angry at himself that was certain, but livid with Raylan Givens. He had been gearing up his nerve to confront Raylan, and Raylan had bolted out the door before Tim could get around to it.

Now he was headed down to Harlan. Well that didn’t matter because Tim was only fifteen minutes behind him. And Art and Rachel were behind Tim by about fifteen minutes or so. Nice and linear. He gritted his teeth when he remembered where and when he had last heard that phrase.

Tim had one job, to get his troublesome partner out of there by any means necessary.

“You have my permission to drag him out of there in handcuffs.”

Tim smiled grimly and narrowed his eyes, hunched a little over the steering wheel and pushed the Yukon harder.

xxxxxxxx

Rachel settled down in her seat and peered out of the window for a moment so that she could get her smirk under control.

She shot a sidelong glance at Art.

“You knew?”

“I’ve known Raylan for ten years, and Tim for three, it was not exactly the work of genius to figure out that the tension that has been swimming around the office for the last week is some unresolved shit between them.”

“So you gave them a shove.”

Art sighed. “In the interests of a restful week next week it was a good idea.”

Rachel smirked again, “you knew…” she muttered and shook her head.

Art never failed to surprise her. She supposed that was why he was the Chief and she was just one of the Deputies.

xxxxxxxx

Tim pulled up outside Ava Crowder’s with a screech of brakes and a swirl of dust. If anything it fanned the flames of his anger to see Raylan ambling towards him without a care in the world. Dammit. Acutely aware of Boyd and Ava just behind him on the steps, Tim was out of the car and striding towards Raylan before either of them reached ground level.

Raylan had one hand stretched out in greeting, which only served to give Tim an opening. He grabbed Raylan’s hand and snapped the cuff closed over his wrist, using momentum and sheer aggression to spin Raylan, grab his other wrist and cuff his hands behind his back.

“HEY!” snapped Raylan, jovial mood gone in a flash. “What the hell? Gutterson, let me go.”

Tim had a firm grasp of the chain between the cuffs, and was pushing Raylan firmly in the direction of the car. He didn’t need to look back to know that Boyd’s grin was of the shit-eating variety, and even Ava was smirking. Providing entertainment for the community was not in Tim’s remit, but if he got Raylan out of there like Art told him, just maybe they could lay to rest this thing between them.

Reaching the passenger door, Tim shoved. Hard. Raylan folded his lanky body into the passenger seat, stiff with protest, Tim leaned across to snap the seatbelt into place.

Raylan was pissed. He didn’t like being handcuffed, and he certainly didn’t want to spend two hours being driven back to Lexington in cuffs. From the steely look in Tim’s eyes that was exactly what he was going to do, and Raylan would be a liar if he didn’t admit there was something of a thrill in that prospect. A thrill that he shouldn’t be feeling.

He tried to hang on to his anger. He should be pissed. He stole a glance at Tim’s profile. Tim was mad, but he was also excited, Raylan could tell that. Dammit. Raylan wanted to howl with frustration. They wanted each other, Raylan knew it, but he had no clue how to fix it.

They sat and Tim drove. Not talking. Just glaring straight ahead, Raylan shooting sidelong glances at Tim’s angry profile, and squirming as he tried to get comfortable with his wrists trapped between his hips and the seat back.

After about half an hour, when Tim had driven well out of Harlan, and Raylan had adopted a strange lopsided sitting position as he tried to avoid pinching his wrists in the cuffs, Raylan tried communication.

“Tim.”

“hmmph.” A snort wasn’t really what he was looking for, but Raylan was really uncomfortable now, and it wasn’t only his hands that were hurting. He’d really messed up. Instead of spending a week being a coward, avoiding talking about it, he should just have been honest with Tim.

Raylan was not the most emotionally sensitive man that ever lived, but even he could recognize that some of Tim’s anger was hurt at being shoved aside.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm.”

Raylan took heart from that. Tim sounded a lot less pissed off. Of course, this was probably going to result in the most awkward moment of Raylan’s life so far, but Tim was worth it. But Raylan really needed to address another problem just then. 

“My left hand’s gone numb.”

“What!” Tim’s head snapped round. “Dammit, Raylan, why didn’t you say something?” He looked for somewhere to pull off the road. A screech of brakes and a swirl of dust, and Tim was yanking the passenger door opening, fumbling with the key to the cuffs and pulling Raylan’s sore left hand gently into both of his, all before Raylan had a chance to collect his thoughts.

Raylan watched Tim’s hands gently massaging his hand and wrist and thought of all the things he wanted to say to Tim. But he sat there dumbly watching Tim tend to his aching arm.

He looked up, Tim was watching him with a question in his eyes. Praying with everything that he had that he was not wrong about this, Raylan leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tim’s.


	6. At Last!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making out and other places

Quite how they arrived at Tim’s place in one piece was a mystery that Raylan preferred not to think about. He was sure it included several traffic violations.

Raylan had kissed Tim in desperation, which melted into something a lot more needy and greedy when after a second’s pause Tim returned his kiss with interest. Some vague sense of where they were caused them to break apart with reluctance, the question of your place or mine was settled easily. Then, Raylan’s mind went blank, although he vaguely remembered his hand on Tim’s thigh, the lean muscle warm under his palm, his fingers stroking just above Tim’s knee and the inward drawn hiss of breath as his fingers moved a little higher.

Tim fumbled his front door open with one hand with considerable apparent difficulty as they tangled on the doorstep. He backed through the door dragging Raylan with him. Raylan’s hat and jacket landed on the couch as Tim’s jacket fell to the floor, their hands went straight to each other’s belts as they attempted to kiss, undress and move towards Tim’s bedroom at the end of the hall.

Stumbling, dragging items of clothing off, Raylan’s boots falling with a dull thud, before Tim grasping Raylan’s hands and pushing him backwards into the wall as they staggered together panting, the look that Tim shot at Raylan before leaning in and flicking a tongue over Raylan’s left nipple. The moan and thud as Raylan’s head hit the wall surprising both of them.

“JEEZ… Tim!” Raylan groaned as his whole body responded to Tim’s touch. It was a good thing that Tim had a grip on Raylan’s hands and was virtually holding him up against the wall, because Raylan’s knees disappeared when Tim followed up the flick of his tongue with a gentle, sucking nip.

“Hold that thought,” Tim breathed against his skin, one hand fumbling the bedroom door open. Somehow they fell through it, and collapsed on the bed, scrambling out of their jeans. Then it was skin to skin, and everything slipped pleasantly out of focus.

xxxxxxxx

The afterglow of making out and blowjobs, and exploring each other was a euphoric feeling. Raylan lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Real coherent. That’s the best we can come up with?” Raylan rolled onto his side and studied his partner, lover… boyfriend? Whatever. He didn’t know what this was, but he knew he wanted more of it.

“You gonna stay?” He could hear a hint of nerves in Tim’s question.

“Yeah.” Feeling nervous himself. “If you’ll have me?” The words so quiet Tim almost didn’t catch them.

“Yeah.” Tim’s answer was oddly shy, and Raylan found that reassuring. Not being the only one with some nerves about what they were doing. He rolled a little closer, as Tim reached for him. They wound up in each other’s arms, legs all tangled together, Raylan’s right thigh resting between Tim’s. As their lips met, Raylan rolled his hips a little, Tim’s gasp trailed into a whimper as Raylan’s tongue stroked his.

They were both tired, maybe if Raylan were twenty years younger than he was they could have done it two or three times already. But Tim wasn’t complaining, he settled, pulling Raylan as close as he could get. They were nose to nose, studying each other through the sweep of lashes, as sleep began to claim them.

“I…”

xxxxxxxx

Raylan looked up from his pile of paperwork. A slow day in the office, catching up on the pile of paperwork on his desk, normally Raylan would be itching to get out of there. But this way he could enjoy an uninterrupted view of the object of his desires.

He had never really tried courtship before. Sure he’d dated Winona and they’d done all the things expected of a dating couple. But this time was different. And Raylan was making it up as he went along. In his universe, raiding your boyfriend’s secret stash to leave treats behind, especially his favorite treats, well that was new to Raylan. He enjoyed it. Seeing the cute flush on Tim’s cheeks when he would come up with the chocolate bar and shoot a quick glance at Raylan, that might have been more loving than it ought if they were keeping this thing a secret, but really Raylan didn’t care as long as he was making Tim happy.

Rachel studied them quietly from behind her computer screen. When they’d shown up on Monday morning, all flushed, bumped shoulders a little too long for mere buddy contact, Raylan had bought coffee for himself and Tim, then the thing with the chocolate. She knew.

So she watched them. They flirted, and touched, and smiled and joked with each other. Sometimes, if she looked up real quick she would catch one or other of them staring at the other like he was the last fudge sundae in the shop and it was a hundred degrees outside.

She peered at them now as she typed. Tim was staring at Raylan, from behind his screen which he’d moved from one side of his desk to the other. Just so he could stare at Raylan and make believe he was still working. She couldn’t see Raylan’s face, but there was something to his slouch that suggested that he was looking right back.

Raylan moved then, and she got a real look at Tim’s expression before he schooled it into neutrality. Not that Rachel was especially a romantic, she saw entirely too much of human nature, but Tim was, if the lovelight in his eyes was anything to go by.

Rachel looked up at Art, standing in his doorway with an opened file, peering over his glasses.

“You knew.” She mouthed.

Art’s smile was a thing of beauty.


End file.
